Property Of
by Calisto Kerrigan
Summary: Hermione's date doesn't go quite the way she would have hoped. But it does guarantee that she will always be The Grim's favorite companion.


**Story Notes:**

This story was written for the _30 Candles Challenge_ over at _hermionesirius_ on LJ with 'Padfoot' as the prompt .

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable character situations belong to J.K. Rowling. I am making no money from the writing and posting of this story. Thanks for reading ;)

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He was stalking her. There! He finally admitted it to himself. He had been stalking her, watching her every move for literally years. Since she was barely sixteen, a small voice admonished, though he refused to admit that it was those few weeks before the she had returned to Hogwarts with Harry and the rest of the Weasleys that had first made him notice the blossoming witch. Well, she certainly wasn't sixteen any longer, but he knew that regardless of her age, all he could do was watch from afar.

He whined pitifully and laid on his stomach. He would have buried his fingers in his long raven locks…if he had his hand or for that matter fingers, so instead he buried his head between his paws. He was an idiot. An old, perverted, has-been that had no business watching the pretty young witch live her life now that the war was over. He wished things could have been different. He wished he'd met her when he was younger. He wished that she still looked at him the way she had when she had been sixteen. He wished… Hell, '_If wishes would bide, beggars would ride'._

Padfoot lifted opened his eyes and glimpsed at the couple, on the porch. It was just a date he knew, but she didn't have them often so this plonker must have interested her somehow. He told himself to just leave. That to see her invite the wanker inside would only serve to break his heart further. Ha! Who was he kidding? She had his heart. Had it for years now and seeing her invite another wizard into her house would only drive him to drink copious amounts of his prized firewhiskey. He got up ready to leave but he couldn't do it without one last look at her. That's when he saw it. The bloody upstart wizard had become a slimy octopus and she was distinctly fighting him off.

"Richard! Stop it," Hermione pushed the increasingly aggressive wizard off her. She really needed to have him leave before she hexed his balls off since that would not go well especially when she would inevitably have to explain to his uncle, her boss, why she had to neuter his favorite nephew. "Richard, don't ruin a pleasant evening." She was trying to be polite. She really didn't need to tell him he was a complete bore and the chances of him getting inside her house were about as likely as her becoming the next champion Seeker.

It hadn't been completely his fault. It was just that Richard Fenningworth just didn't have silky raven locks, stormy grey eyes that twinkled when he laughed, and would look utterly ridiculous in a leather jacket, denims and boot – if he even knew where to get them in the first place. It was just that Richard Fenningworth was just another in a long line of wizards that couldn't compete with Sirius Black.

Hermione felt a cold, slimy thing in her face and was instantly brought out of her self induced tangent. _EWWWWW!!!_ _Did he actually think that no, meant yes, stick your tongue in my ear?_ She had better kisses from Padfoot! She'd had about enough, so she brought her three inch heel up and came down hard on Fenningworth's shin and expertly landing it on that soft little spot just above his shoe. He'd be feeling that for days, regardless of all the healing charms he might use.

"I said enough!" she yelled. "Now back off before I decide to splice your family jewels permanently from your person."

Richard Fenningworth glared at the bushy haired, boring, know-it-all witch as he rubbed his now incredibly sore shin and wondered if she broke his ankle bone with those ridiculous heels of her. To think he had thought they had been sexy when he picked her up. They should be classified a dangerous hidden weapon.

"I should have known that the rumors where true," he snarled. "Hermione Granger, the Golden Girl of the Magical World, the smartest witch of her general, is truly the Gryffindor Ice Queen. Probably a dyke, too," he sneered.

Hermione pulled out her wand, not caring if she wouldn't have a job come Monday morning, but she was about to teach Fannywart that you don't mess with a lioness unless you want to get chewed up and spit out. She was about to cast a slicing hex when she saw his eyes widen, then she heard the growl coming from behind her. She bit the inside of her cheek in order to keep from smiling.

"That's…That's…," Fenningworth mumbled, his eyes now bulging out as he raised his finger pointing to the huge snarling beast behind her.

"Why Richard," Hermione said in an overly saccharine voice, "what is it? Are you alright?"

"The Grim!" he squealed.

"The Grim?" she said in a breathy whisper and faked a startled gasp, raising her hand to her lips in order to hide her smirk. She slowly turned around and looked everywhere but at the snarling monstrosity that was skulking in her front porch. "But Richard, are you sure? I don't see anything. Nothing at all. Perhaps you had too much to drink after all and you're simply hallucinating," she feigned concern. She bit her lip as he turned his horror-struck eyes to her before returning them back to the Messenger of Death.

"I'm going to die!" he wailed. "Oh Gawds! I don't want to die. I'm too handsome. I'm too young! This isn't fair!" he cried as he stumbled backwards on the three steps leading to her porch. "No, it can't be me," he looked around with increasing panic. "It's you!" he glared at Hermione. "This is all your fault. I don't want to die. NO!" he turned and ran as quickly as he could into the darkness.

"Bye, Dickie," Hermione smirked. She unlocked the door, then quick as lightening, she flicked her wand at the general direction of Padfoot without even looking. "Wipe your paws, close the door behind you and don't shed on my sofa. I'll be down in a minute." She walked in, leaving the door open.

She didn't sound angry, he thought. Sirius changed back to his human form… or tried to. _Tricky witch!_ He was going to have to face her lecture after all. Padfoot trotted to the door, carefully wiped his paws on the doormat before nudging the door open wider and entering the cozy house, making sure to close the door behind him. He looked at the white plush sofa and allowed himself a wicked doggy grin. Well, if he was already in trouble….

Hermione spent an obscene amount of time deciding what clothes to wear. It was really rather ludicrous for her to wonder if a bloody dog would like her outfit or not. She finally settled on a tight black tank top that originally had 'Property of' followed by an intricate design of the Westgate Winged Horses. Unfortunately, the logo of the horses was cheaply made and disappeared after the first washing, so now all it said was 'Property of' blank. Hermione refused to acknowledge that it was simply mimicking her love life. The pulled out her favorite soft cotton lounge pants that several constellations imprinted in the fabric. She actually forgot which constellation was on her arse until she was at the bottom of the stairs, but just as she was about to head back upstairs to change, she saw Padfoot, rolling – rolling! – on her once pristine white sofa and the stars on her bum were quickly forgotten.

"Padfoot!" Hermione yelled. She glared indignantly, "I know of a Vet service that will neuter dogs at all hours!" she huffed. "Couldn't you have -? Why didn't you –?" she closed her eyes and counted to ten… thrice. "You could have just sat by the nice warm fire," she pointed to the rather comfortable looking rug in front of the fireplace. "I wasn't gone that long," she glanced briefly at the clock on the mantle. _Forty-five minutes!?_ She actually spent forty-five minutes deciding what to wear for a bloody dog! Only to end up in her favorite lounge clothes!?

_Morgana, save me from my own foolish heart!_

Hermione stared at the now downright embarrassed looking dog. She sighed heavily, "Alright, maybe I deserved a furry black couch after taking so long but…" she plopped heavily on the rug in front of the fireplace. She heard Padfoot whine apologetically. "We need to talk," she said finally.

She really didn't know where to start and she was starting to feel rather stupid. So she got up, heading for the liquor cabinet, figuring a nice shot of cognac might give her some liquid courage. She took three steps when she heard his bark and turned around; suddenly remembering what her backside just showed him. She glared at him again, then sighed, coming around the sofa and sitting on the one spot that he managed to not shed on.

Sirius had to chuckle, if only internally, when he saw the _Property of_ on the back of her tank top followed by the Canis Major constellation on her luscious bum. He only wished that was actually true. When she sat down heavily, he couldn't help but get up and move towards her, burying his snout deep in the nape of her neck.

Hermione closed her eyes and realized she was truly perverted if a snuggle from this wizard in his animagus form, of all things, was a hundred times more meaningful then the best snog by anyone else. She dug her fingers into his fur and sighed again.

"You do know that I'm quickly becoming the known as Death's Handmaiden, right?" she bit off a groan when he licked the side of her neck before pulling back and tilting his head quizzically. "It's bound to come out that this is my _third_," she glared at him, "date to see The Grim after dropping me off." She turned away from him in order to hide her smile at his loud bark.

"Sirius you can't keep doing this," she started, ignoring the sense of loss she felt as he moved away. Gryffindor courage, Gryffindor courage, she kept repeating it like a newfound mantra. "Especially if you are going to do nothing about it." She refused to look at him as she continued, "I'm not clueless you know? I've seen the looks," she took a deep breath, "ever since I was sixteen and either let me get over this ridiculously never-ending crush I have or man-up and do something about it."

There she said it. Now all he had to do was respond. She refused to look at him and her embarrassment grew as his silence lengthened. She braved a quick look at him, only to have Padfoot do a soft bark.

_Oh!_ She cringed, "Sorry," she said apologetically. At least now that she had said her peace and he had been forced to listen. "_Finite Incantatem."_

Sirius wasted no time changing back to his human form, staring intently at the beautiful witch that once again refused to meet his eyes. She was right. Man-up or walk away for good. He cupped her cheek, firmly lifting it so her eyes would meet his.

"I think it's time I claimed my property, don't you?" he asked as his lips claimed hers.


End file.
